


Never Alone

by MegaNeko



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: Absent Parents, Bullying, Guardian Angels, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Some minor violence, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9374861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaNeko/pseuds/MegaNeko
Summary: Chani is a loner and outcast with no one to turn to. His father walked out on his family and his mother is rarely home. One day he finds a strange bell in his drawer which summons eight guardian angels.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda inspired by SF9's MV for So Beautiful but with my own twist.

I’m so tired of waking up every day. It’s always the same old thing. I have no one to share my time with, to make waking up worthwhile. I’m very alone in this large world. No one would miss me if I missed a day of class or didn’t show up to a club meeting. They probably wouldn’t even miss me if I disappear completely. 

No. I shouldn’t think like that. Get those those thoughts out of my head and far away from me. My mom would be sad. She would wonder what they did wrong. Of course the answer to that is nothing, but how would she know that. I’ll stay a little longer for her sake. 

I finally lift myself up into a sitting position on my bed and look around. There is the smallest bit of light coming in through the window from the sunrise. I glance over at the clock next to my bed. Perfect, just enough time to get ready for school. I drag myself out of bed and robotically go through my morning routine, leaving getting properly dressed for last. It’s been a long time since I’ve cared about my appearance or have even bothered trying to look nice and put together. 

I leave at exactly the right time to get to the bus stop just before it arrives. As I walk I jam earphones into my ears and turn the volume up on my phone. Listening to loud music, blocking out my surroundings, it makes me feel better. I only stop and pay attention to the world when I greet the bus driver. I like being nice to people, especially those whom I constantly see. Even though I have no one, I feel the need to make others feel like they might have someone. Being on the bus is always one of the worst parts of my day. There’s other people close to my age who think they are somehow better than everyone else. I get shoved around as I make my way to my usual seat. Once I’m sitting it’s usually as if I am invisible, but not today. Some of the surrounding kids close around me. I know they are trying to talk to me, but I can’t be bothered to listen. One of them yanks my earphones out of my ears, which hurts, and starts raising his voice. 

“Are you ignoring us? Who do you think you are to ignore us?!” 

I look up at them without any sign of any emotion.  _ Maybe if I play dumb they’ll leave me alone. _

“Hey, we need your seet. Move.” Another one has stepped forward and has their face mere inches from mine. I hate people being in my personal space, so naturally I push him backward. It ends up being more of a shove.  _ Oops. _

The guy I shoved comes back quickly and grabs the front of my hoodie, hauling me to my feet. He punches me. It doesn’t hurt, not really. I mean, I’ve felt worse. After a few more punches they clearly get bored by my lack of response, so they push me off the bus the next time it stops. Now that hurts. I pick myself up off the ground, looking at the blood quickly gathering on my abraded skin. My pants have ripped at one knee and the sleeve of my hoodie is also ripped on the same side revealing large cuts, some of which have gravel embedded in them. I carefully pick out the pieces of gravel before continuing on my way to school on foot. I’ll be late. Whatever. 

~~~

At this point all of my teachers have stopped caring if I show up on time or not. They don’t care if I show up bleeding with my clothes ripped. They don’t care about any obvious bruising on my face or arms. My grades are fine and that’s all that matters. They turn a blind eye to anything they don’t want to see. 

Getting beat up at school is worse than on the bus. It’s usually jocks trying to relieve stress or anger or just trying to feel better about themselves. They don’t stop until they feel better and no one tries to stop them. I lay still long after they are gone, it hurts too much to move. I only get up when my next class starts, but I don’t head there. Instead I make my way to the nurse’s office. It’s nice to see a relatively friendly face after the beating I just took. 

“Chani! What happened this time?” She sounds surprised but she’s really not, I have become a regular at her office. 

“The usual.”

“Why don’t you ever try to stand up for yourself?” Sometimes it seems like the nurse is more motherly than my mom. 

“It would just make it worse, it stops faster if I don’t fight.” She looks sad but says nothing. Instead she starts checking my injuries, disinfecting them and putting bandages on them.

“I’m sorry I can’t do anything about your clothes.” She glances at my hoodie which was discarded onto one of the beds. She knows I like that one because I wear it so often. 

“It’s okay, it can’t be helped.” I sigh and put it back on. “Thanks for everything. See ya.” I leave with a pass for my next class. 

~~~

When I get home I go straight to my room so that my mom won’t see the bruises and cuts. I get changed into something comfortable and throw my torn cloths to the side. I’ll figure out what to do with those later. I robotically do my homework and only stop once I am finished. I leave my room only when I’m hungry. Luckily my mom isn’t at home, I can keep all of this a secret for a little longer. I know it’s not fair to her, but I don’t want her to worry about me. I make sure we don’t run into each other for the rest of the evening. 

Finally I go to bed, ready to put this day behind me. I think about what it would be like to never wake up. I hate those thoughts so much. I send a silent plea to anyone who could be listening. _ I just wish that this would all get better. Please, if anyone is out there, help me.   _

~~~

I must have slept well last night because I feel somehow refreshed now. It’s Saturday, meaning no school, thank God. After almost an hour of laying in bed fully awake, rolling around with an absolute refusal to do anything just yet, I finally sit up. Maybe reading something will give me enough of an excuse not to get up. I open the drawer of my nightstand to retrieve one of my favorite books. As I am pulling it out I notice a small golden bell in the corner of the drawer. I don’t remember ever seeing it before, much less putting it there so I take it out to look at it. There are strange characters on the bottom rim that I can’t make out. The bell looks used, as if a little kid had handled it and maybe even tried to bite it. Something about it seems familiar but I have no clue why. After I inspect it a little more I give it a slight shake. The sound is clear and piercing, but not in a bad way. I shake it gently again, loving the beautiful sound it makes. 

At first I don’t notice the eight people now surrounding my bed, too busy with this new object to pay attention. Soon I get the feeling of being watched and hesitantly break my attention away from the bell, lifting my head slowly. I feel my heart speed up at the sight of eight guys, around my age, standing around my bed looking down on me. My thoughts start going a-mile-a-minute as I try to think of how they could possibly have gotten into my room and what they could want from me. I switch to thinking about the possibility of fighting them. I could grab the book left forgotten on my bed and use it as a weapon until I find something else. Even if I can’t do anything to them maybe I’d be able to make enough noise to alert my mom. I start to reach toward the book but the individual closest to me, a guy with fluffy blond hair who is one of the shortest, picks it up before I can. I start to panic but then notice that they have all started smiling. Not the same way that people at school do, with a sneer or a fake smile, but real, genuine smiles. I feel disarmed by this change in demeanor, a million questions swirling in my head but being too frightened to ask them. 

I finally find my voice. “W-who. . .? H-how. . .?” I stutter out, unable to form comprehensible sentences. 

The blond one from before sits next to me on the bed and shushes me, gently handing the book back. The others exchange knowing glances before kneeling or squatting in front of me. The other shorter one, a brunette with round eyes similar to my own, speaks up. 

“Hi Chani, we know you must be confused right now but we’ll explain everything in due time. All you need to know right now is that we are here to help you and that bell that you are holding is the reason we are here.” I spare a glance at the small bell in my hand. “Now, you need to get up, you have a lot of homework that you need to do.”

“Really, that’s the first thing you’re saying to him?” An individual with reddish, brownish hair speaks up. 

“It’s true though, he needs to do homework,” another says. This one is one of the tallest with jet black hair, intense eyes, and a jaw you might be able to cut yourself on. 

“Not first thing in the morning!” Shouts out the taller of the two blondes. 

I watch in slight fascination as the eight boys begin to argue among themselves. It’s clear none of them are very serious and it’s mostly humorous. I decide in that moment that I’ll let these strange people stay. I don’t care if they are weird and just appeared in my bedroom claiming to have been summoned, they are the first people in a long time to have talked to me without it being necessary. 

One of them, a tall one with silvery hair, turns away from the others towards me. He reaches out a hand to help me off of my bed. “C’mon let’s get breakfast.”

I take his hand and he leads me down to the kitchen. The others follow shortly after, arguing having already turned to friendly banter. The silvery-haired one lets go of my hand to start taking out various cooking utensils. Another tall one with black hair and thick lips pulls a chair out for me to sit. They all insist that they will make breakfast for me and I just have to sit back and relax. As they make breakfast they start singing and humming various songs. I recognize one as Tomorrow by BTS and another as A-yo by SHINee. 

Soon a pleasant bready smell is wafting through the room and shortly after a plate of fresh pancakes is placed in front of me. A third tall one with black hair and eyes that remind me of a fox spreads butter over the pancakes and pours syrup over them. He smiles warmly and sits down, the others following suit. They all watch intently as I start eating, clearly pleased when I let them know that I like it. As I continue eating the guys make themselves comfortable around the kitchen area and start chatting again. I enjoy the pleasant and warm atmosphere that envelops the room. It’s a feeling that I have missed, not even being able to remember the last time I felt it. 

After I finish I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and freshen up a bit. They follow me but I tell them to wait outside. As I am brushing my teeth I can’t help but to stare at my reflection. I look pale, almost sickly, with some slight bags under my eyes. My hair is disheveled and tangled to the point that it looks like it will be painful to comb through. Maybe I’ll put off doing that again. 

I soon exit the bathroom only to be pushed back into it. The guy with similar eyes to mine grabs a comb and starts gently combing through my hair. Even though he is trying so hard to be gentle it hurts. A few of the comb’s teeth break off, causing him to grab another comb. He doesn’t say anything about the condition of my hair or how I look, none of them do. 

Finally the combing is done and we walk back to my bedroom. A few of the others are already there, having already picked out clothes for me to wear. I shoo them out so that I can get changed privately. It’s not that I really mind their presence, I just don’t want them to see the evidence of all of my recent physical altercations. 

I wait a little while to gather my thoughts once I am wearing fresh clothes. I definitely like having these guys around but I need answers. I can’t have eight strangers taking care of me with absolutely no clue as to who they are even though they seem to know me. In fact, they seem to know my house well too, possibly even better than I do. I resolve to ask them who they are and why they are here before they can start distracting me and caring for me again. 

I open the door to my bedroom and let the eight of them in, gesturing for them to go sit on the bed. I keep a serious face and they must have noticed my change of mood since they follow the unspoken direction quickly and silently. Once they are all seated, I finally let out the questions i  had been holding in. 

“Who exactly are you guys and why are you here?”

The one with eyes similar to mine speaks up first again. “We told you, we are here to take care of you.”

“Yeah but why?”

The one with fox-like eyes speaks this time. “We should just tell him, he has the right to know.”

“Yeah, I mean it’s not like we aren’t allowed to,” says the taller blonde. 

“Fine.” The first one turns to me again. “Chani, we are your guardian angels. We’ve been watching after you for a very long time but we were only able to reveal ourselves now.” 

I glance around at their serious faces. Some look like they kind of expect me to faint or have some large reaction, others just look like they hope I believe them. They all look completely honest, giving me no reason to doubt them.  _ Guardian angels. Maybe my prayers have been answered. _


	2. Real or Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chani gets used to the company of his angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooo sorry this took so long!!  
> I also have no clue what happened when I wrote this because it started going in a different direction than my original intentions.  
> I'm sorry for making you wait and hope you enjoy this chapter

It’s strange to suddenly have eight people who are always wanting to help me in any way that they can. It’s weird to walk into my room and see my bed neatly made and see a person (angel? whatever) organizing my closet. It’s been a few hours since the eight of them appeared and I still become startled at their presence or feel the need to pinch myself every once in awhile to make sure I’m not dreaming. 

 

I plop down on the floor of my bedroom and start pulling stuff for school projects out of my backpack. Youngbin, the one with eyes similar to mine, had been nagging me to do it for the last hour. Although it’s a bit annoying, I’m grateful to him because I probably wouldn’t have done it otherwise. 

 

Rowoon, the tallest one, comes over from cleaning the shelves on the other side of the room to help me when I start struggling with research for one project. The two of them together are like the mom and dad I wish I had. 

 

Inseong, the one with fox eyes, turns away from my closet where he had been organizing stuff with a look that’s a mix between alarm and confusion. 

“Why does most of your clothes have rips in them?” 

 

“Some people have ripped clothes as a fashion thing, y’know?” Taeyang, the taller blonde, calls over from where he’s laying on the ground, reading random books off of my bookshelf. 

 

“I know that! These don’t look distressed though.” Inseong hold up a pair of jeans that have vertical tears in them, almost as if they were cut that way, to prove his point. Taeyang sits up and gives me a quizzical look. 

 

I sigh.  _ So much for getting work done.  _ “It’s nothing really, I’m just not a careful person.” I try to laugh it off, trying to be convincing. 

 

“. . . If you say so.” Inseong turns back to organizing. 

 

I stay staring at Inseong’s back, letting myself get lost in thought. No one, not even my mom, had ever asked about my clothes. No one has shown enough care in the last few years to sit down and help me with school work, even when I’ve gone to teachers for help. No one has cleaned or organized anything in my room since middle school. I don’t even notice that I’ve started to cry until Zuho, the silver-haired one, comes over at gently wiped away my tears. 

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His low voice is gentle and soothing and he stares into my face as if trying to find the source of the tears there. The others gather around me with similar expressions of worry. 

 

“Nothing, I’m fine. I just . . . I need a moment.” I quickly stand up and rush out of the room. I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing, I just feel like I need a moment alone, and away from everyone. Before I even realize what I’m doing I am halfway down the street from my house.  _ Maybe a walk will help clear my head a bit. _

~~~

“Okay, so I think I should lay some ground rules.” As it turns out, the walk was very helpful. Not only was I able to get a hold of myself, but I also came up with ways to make this situation work without me feeling awkward. “First of all, you guys have to respect my privacy. If I don’t want you to look at something or ask about something, or I just want to be alone, you guys have to respect that. Secondly, you are not allowed to just follow me anywhere, people will ask questions and I would rather not lie so it’s easier this way. Thirdly, you are not allowed to do creepy things like watching me sleep or change or whatever.” The angels all look at each other. 

 

“Well,” the shorter blonde, Hwiyoung, speaks up, “the second rule shouldn’t be a problem. You see, we are invisible to everyone but you.”  _ Wait what.  _

 

“What?”

 

“Guardian angels can only be seen by the person they are guarding.” Jaeyoon, the one with thick lips, says. I barely have enough time to process this before Youngbin starts speeking. 

 

“This brings us to another important topic. We actually have some rules of our own.” He looks serious. 

 

“Um, okay.”  _ Wow Chani, what an intelligent answer. _

 

“Firstly, we usually can only be summoned with the bell, but there are a few exceptions to that. Secondly, you aren’t allowed to lie to us, that makes our job much harder than it already is. Lastly, you have to let us take care of you. That’s our job and we won’t take no for an answer.” They all share equal looks of conviction. It is in that moment that I realize how important this is, how important I am, to them. This alone is almost enough to make me cry again, but I don’t. There’s one thing that is bugging me about all of this.

 

“So where have you been all this time?” I ask as I go to sit on my bed. I don’t mean for it to sound harsh or bitter, but that’s how it comes out anyway. 

 

“We wanted to be here, seriously!” Dawon, the one with reddish-brownish hair, comes to sit next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “We were watching the whole time but we couldn’t come to you!” 

 

“Well why not?” I’m fully aware that I sound like a whiny kid, but I can’t help it. I’ve been so lonely and in pain for years with no one taking care of me or even looking out for me. 

 

“The bell.” Rowoon states simply. When it doesn’t look like I get it, he explains. “You always had it with you when you were really young but then you lost it so our path to you was broken. We still had the connection that allowed us to see you but we couldn’t get to you because there was no way to summon us.” 

 

“Oh.” I suddenly feel bad for being harsh and whiny. “Um, sorry,” I mumble. 

 

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t mean to lose the bell.” Hwiyoung laughs and ruffles my hair. 

 

“No, I mean-” 

 

“You don’t have to apologize to us for anything.” Rowoon smiles kindly at me in understanding. 

 

“Uh . . . ok.” I give a weak smile back to him. Even though he said that, I still feel a bit guilty. Sensing my discomfort, Taeyang sits next to me with a book. 

 

“Have you read this?” He asks, holding the book towards me.

 

“Yeah, like, fifty times.” His eyes light up and he pushes himself closer. 

 

“I just finished reading it! And oh my god the ending cliffhanger is killing me! Do you have the second one?” 

 

I laugh. “Yes, of course. I have the whole series. I collected them all when I was younger.” 

 

“Since when did you like reading, Taeyang?” Jaeyoon speaks up teasingly. 

 

“Shut up, I enjoyed this, okay?” Taeyang retorts as I go find the rest of the series. 

 

“Don’t worry too much Jaeyoon, those books are like 5th grade level,” Rowoon says, having taken the book from Taeyang and looking it over. 

 

“5th grade level? You should just stick to reading comics.” Youngbin jokes. 

 

Taeyang looks indignant at the indirect insults. “At least I’m reading! And I’ll have something to talk to Chani about that the rest of you can’t!” The others laugh at how worked up he’s getting, but leave him alone to read more when I walk back over with the rest of the series in hand. 

 

The rest of the day is taken up by just hanging out and talking. The angels all joke around so easily and they keep the conversation running smoothly, despite the fact that I had forgotten how to interact socially a long time ago. 

 

When is gets late they help me get ready for bed. Inseong lays out my pajamas (just about the only thing I own that doesn’t have holes in it) while I go shower. I lock the door so that none of them can come in, still not wanting them to see the evidence of the repeated beatings that I’ve had to endure. I have Zuho bring the pajamas to the door of the bathroom when I get out of the shower. When I finally get into bed, Rowoon pulls the covers up around me and Jaeyoon sits next to me, stroking my hair until I fall asleep. 

 

Instead of dreaming I have pleasant memories from my childhood visit me. Memories of “imaginary” friends who would do anything and everything for me.  

~~~

Sunday is just about the same as the day before, if not better. The constant presence of the angels is soothing for the most part, even if they are just lounging around or poking around through my belongings. They seem to be trying to familiarize themselves with the current me, the lonely, mostly unhappy me. It’s probably very different from how I was when I was younger, but I can’t remember all that well. 

 

My mother texts me later in the day to tell me that she probably won’t be home until very late, so I shouldn’t bother waiting for her. For once I don’t feel terrible and lonely about her coming home late. Actually, I feel a little grateful to have more time with my new companions.    
  
When they decide that it’s time for dinner they all pitch in (or at least try) to make it. As they set the food on the table once it’s done I wonder for the upteenth time if this is all a dream. Jaeyoon tries to feed me a few times while Hwiyoung and Zuho playfully steal my silverware and bites of my food. Afterwards they even insist on cleaning everything up. We all talk together casually as they take turns washing dishes and wiping down the counters and table.  _ I wish it was like this my whole life. _

 

Once I’m settling in for bed again the eight of them crowd around. This time Zuho lays on the bed with me, cuddling me from behind. Dawon curls up at the foot of the bed, lazily tracing random patterns onto my legs through the sheets. Jaeyoon and Rowoon switch roles from the night before and I drift to sleep in the comfort of all of their affection. 

~~~

_ I never loved you or your mom. You were the worst thing to happen to us. I wish you had never been born.  _

 

The words cut deep into me. I start trembling, holding back the tears I know will fall.  _ Please, dad, stay. I’m sorry. I’ll be better. Or I’ll stay out of your sight. I’ll do anything, just stay!  _ I fall to my knees, begging uselessly as the silhouette of my father disappears into a mist. 

 

_ No one loves you. _

 

_ Everyone will leave you sooner or later. _

 

_ You’re all alone. _

 

_ You could disappear and no one would care. _

 

_ Do everyone a favor and die.  _

 

Disembodied voices echo around as I’m left sobbing on the ground. The mist thickens and closes around me as the voices become louder. It all becomes so suffocating that I’m sure I’ve stopped breathing, any sound becoming a choked gasp for air. Panic rises in me, adding to the strangled feeling. 

~~~

I jolt awake from the nightmare, gasping and shivering, drenched in a layer of cold sweat. I clutch the sheets close to me, trying to find some semblance of warmth and comfort. I feel something wet fall on my hands and realize that I’m crying. Now that I’ve realized that, I can’t stop crying, only sobbing with more force. Something registers as off in my mind but I’m too disoriented to recognize what it is. 

 

Once I’ve calmed down and returned fully to my senses I look around.  _ Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong, something’swrongsomething’swrongsomething’s-  _

 

My breath catches in my throat as a new wave of panic starts to set in.  _ Why am I alone? Where are they? Where’s Zuho, Rowoon, Jaeyoon, Dawon, Taeyang, Youngbin, Hwiyoung, and Inseong? Was it all a dream? It can’t be. I can’t be alone. This isn’t happening. _

 

My mind goes blank as I stare at the empty room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter is coming, I have already started it.  
> Sorry not sorry for ending the chapter like that  
> Also really sorry for the spacing, idk why it did that but I'm too lazy to change it   
> I hope you enjoyed it anyway!  
> I love feedback so feel free to leave a comment and/or a kudos  
> Love you, until next time~


	3. On My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chani deals with being alone again.   
> Massive TW!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long to update. Senior year has been a bitch. 
> 
> Huge tw for this chapter like holy shit sorry I didn't start out meaning to go this dark.

I robotically get ready for school. By the time I’ve dressed and had breakfast I’ve mostly convinced myself that it must have been a dream (or a hallucination since time clearly passed). While I gather my stuff for school, shoving various folders into my bag, I find the bell resting on my desk. I’m afraid to use it, afraid that what I believe will turn out to be true. I turn it over in my hands, careful not to let it ring, examining it closely, hoping to see something that would indicate that it actually works. Nothing. Eventually I put it in my bag, in a safe pocket that’s not used for anything, just in case.

 

My mom is still asleep when I leave with just enough time to get to the bus stop without having to wait there long. I try to block out the deafening, suffocating silence by blasting music loudly into my ears. I barely pause to great the bus driver, unable to muster a smile or even a wave. I don’t miss the look of concern but I barely care. I make my way to the back of the bus with my head down, almost getting tripped a few times. The rest of the day is just the same as always, if not worse. I get threatened while on the bus and as soon as I’ve stepped off they attack me. Their blows leave no visible damage, it’s all hidden by my clothes. I come late to class and must stay for detention. I’m in so much pain I want to die, but of course my suffering doesn’t end. Being tripped in the hallway, slammed into lockers, and having drinks “accidentally” spilled on me are just normal now. I don’t bother going to the nurse, I don’t want to have to talk or explain. 

 

Mom isn’t there when I get home. I feel relief at seeing the empty house, I’m in so much pain I don’t think I could hide it. As much relief as I feel there is also a distinct bitter feeling that has welled up inside of me. This house shouldn’t be empty like this, it should have eight other people moving around, making food, sweeping, anything. I’ve been abandoned again, and this time it was by people who were supposed to be magically bound to protect me. It’s impossible to prevent tears from welling up in my eyes so I blink rapidly in an effort to control them. I take care of my injuries by myself, covering my torso and arms with bandages. Most of the injuries aren’t bleeding, just internal, but I cover them anyway; I don’t want to see them. 

 

I vacantly do my homework, as if I am a well-programmed machine. I have nothing better to do. I go to sleep early that night, before mom even gets home. As I lay in bed, willing myself to drift off into a hopefully peaceful dreamscape, I make a promise to myself. I will not use that bell. They abandoned me. I don’t need them. 

 

~~~ 

 

Unfortunately my sleep is disturbed multiple times by ceaseless nightmares. Too many scenes in which I’m being attacked, berated, betrayed, or otherwise hurt by exactly eight people or my father flash through my sleep. When I wake up the feelings from the dreams stay. I’d give up sleeping if I wasn’t so exhausted, but I can’t help but to fall back into sleep every time. 

 

~~~

 

Mom is awake when I get up. I can hear her moving around as I slowly get out of bed, encouraged by the smell wafting in from the kitchen. The smell of cooked eggs will always be one associated with home. Honestly for a second I think that it is possible that it’s someone else making the food, but I quickly get rid of those thoughts and make my way in the direction of the food. I feel my mouth watering as she sets a plate down on the table for me and almost cry when i start eating it. It has been so long since I last ate my mom’s cooking since our schedules rarely allow us to see each other and she is usually too busy.

 

As I get ready for school I find myself hoping that today will be better. If something as rare as breakfast with my mom was possible, then maybe the rest of the day could also be just as rare. 

 

I walk to the bus stop with a little time to spare. I listen to music as usual, but I keep the volume just down enough to be able to hear what is going on around me. I look around and actually take note of the people at the stop. There aren’t many, since it is pretty early. I’m a little startled by the fact that I can’t recognize most of them, despite living in the same neighborhood and almost definitely going on the bus at the same time before. There is an old lady wearing a floral print dress, holding a basket of fruit standing next to me. Past her there is a couple, most likely in their mid or late twenties, holding hands, staring into each others’ eyes, and generally being romantic. Standing behind them is a girl about my age, all focus on her phone. A businessman walks up holding the hand of a small girl. She is crying and he strokes her hair, trying to soothe her. He kneels down and starts talking to her face-to-face. I hear the bus approach so I look away. Watching the bus come closer, looking into the windows, slowly fills me with a sense of unease. All I see are people my age, a few of them being all-too familiar. I try to convince myself that today will be different as I walk to the doors. I pause to help the old lady onto the bus before following behind. I say hi to the driver and even give a small smile, which is returned with a look of relief. The shoving and tripping stays the same but I stay safe for the rest of the trip. 

 

Most of the rest of the day is relatively normal, and luckily not as bad as yesterday. I’m starting to actually feel a little confident in this day being different than others, especially once it has reached the end of lunch and I still haven’t taken a beating. The school day ends with the worst thing happening being some jocks trying to fit me into a locker. The surprise and relief washing though me is a welcomed feeling. But like all good things, it can’t last. As I wait for the bus to arrive I feel a hand land heavily on my shoulder. I try to ignore it and just stare straight ahead. My heart drops into my stomach when “come with us” is whispered next to my ear and the strong arms turn me and push me down the sidewalk. I walk, like I have any choice, and get pushed around a corner. I’m greeted with blows that bring me to my knees and insults that make me want nothing more than to cover my ears and block everything out (but I can’t). My attackers talk among themselves for a few moments but I don’t hear what they say, it’s muffled by my own chaotic thoughts. I feel hands near my waist and I mentally prepare myself for whatever pain they might inflict, only to feel sudden cold below where the hands were. My confusion is replaced by panic only a moment before they act. At first I scream, then cry, then eventually stop responding at all, my mind going completely blank. I’m not sure when it all ends, not sure of when my arms give out and I fall face down, not even of how long I lay there shaking and trying not to think. Eventually some small part of my brain that still functions takes control. I force myself up and carefully adjust my clothes, gingerly pulling everything back in place. I put my backpack on, not remembering when it had been removed. Only then does the full extent of the assault hit me and I get sick, doubling over and supporting myself against a telephone poll. Once the entire contents of my stomach has been forcibly discarded I stagger back to the bus stop. I didn’t see my attackers faces so I have no idea if any of the groups of guys waiting with me are them. The thought of them standing here casually, maybe even watching me, makes me feel sick and makes me want to disappear. I sit near the back door of the bus, wanting nothing more than to be able to hide in the relative comfort of my home. 

 

Once I get off at my stop I walk home as fast as I can, ignoring every painful sensation, until I get to the door of my home. The whole time I keep glancing over my shoulder, even while unlocking the door, scared of any person who passes by. When I get inside I lock the door and start locking all of the windows. Once all of those are done I hole myself up in my room. I drag blankets into a corner, wrapping them around me like a protective cocoon, and huddle up in that corner. Only once I’ve settled into my spot do I take a moment to breath and try to process, but as soon as I think of assault the tears come again and I can’t stop them. I cry, sobs wracking my body, until I can’t anymore, until I am too tired. I end up passing out, exhaustion falling over every part of me and settling in. 

 

I wake up hours later. The sun has pretty much set and I can hear movement coming from outside of my room. My heart leaps into my throat with fear. I can feel my breath becoming uneven as I think about who could be out there. I slowly and quietly get up and make my way to the door. I crack open the door carefully, trying not to make any noise. It feels like my legs are going to give out as I walk towards the sound. Relief floods through me when I catch sight of my mom. I suppress the urge to cry again, I don’t want her to worry. I quietly retreat to my room. All I can think about is wanting to be alone and wanting to disappear. It’s a miracle that I don’t act on that urge. 

 

I can’t focus enough to get any homework done, and I avoid my mom as much as possible to prevent any unwanted conversation. I feel a little guilty about it since she is never home this early, but I really don’t know what I might say or do if I’m around her for too long. If there is one person I want not to know about the earlier events it’s her. She’s already struggling enough on her own to support both of us, I don’t need to add that extra stress to her. The guilt only worsens when she calls into my room that she made dinner. I come out and do my best to eat but I have no appetite and it feels like anything I swallow will just be forced out again. Thankfully it isn’t, but I feel like I’ll be sick for a few hours after. 

 

I try to sleep early, but every time I close my eyes I see flashes of the scene from earlier. Every time sleep ebbs in at the edges of my mind it’s accompanied by the feeling of those hands all over me. 

 

~~~

 

I can’t remember falling asleep, but I must have at some point because I wake up to my alarm going off. I get out of bed, wanting nothing more than to fall back into it, hide under the covers, and possibly suffocate. I get ready for school, moving around like I am a zombie or something, completely souless. As usual I leave just in time to get on the bus, not like yesterday. My music is loud and I keep my head down. I try to make myself as small as possible while passing the other students, and for the most part I am left alone. However, as I get off the bus I am knocked down and I fall on the pavement face down. The fall causes an earphone to fall out and I can hear the laughter of the people around me as well as the bus driver yelling at them for it. I push myself up off the ground and hurriedly walk away, eager to get away from them. 

 

I don’t notice the bell falling out of my bag. I don’t hear the small clattering ring it makes as it hits the pavement. I don’t see the eight figures watching as I turn the corner onto school property. 

 

~~~

 

Throughout the day I am hyper aware of every comment, gesture, and action directed at me. I stay in crowds as much as possible, not wanting to be left alone with anyone or make myself an easy target. The one time I accidentally let my guard down is when a group of hot-headed jocks decide to take out their anger (or whatever) on me. Somehow I’m relieved when it’s over that I’m only walking away with a lot of bruises and contemplating if my ribs are still intact. 

 

I wait to leave school until the last moment so that a repeat of yesterday can’t happen. I quickly walk to the open doors of the bus and don’t slow down until I’ve sat down. I anxiously watch the world outside of the bus go by, earphones in place but not playing anything. At my stop I hurry off and start power walking towards home. I turn a corner and run directly into someone and fall down. I’m too afraid to look up and see who it is.  _ What if it’s one of them from yesterday.  _ Not that I would recognize them. I don’t notice that I’m shaking with fear until the person gently places a hand on my shoulder. 

 

“Calm down. Why are you so scared?” 

 

My heart feels like it is about to stop, or burst.  _ I know that voice. _ I slowly lift my head to look at the person I ran into and I can’t believe my eyes. 

 

“Zuho?” My voice sounds weak to my own ears and I can feel tears start to well up. “What? How . . .?” 

 

“The bell rang but you were going to school so we decided to meet you at home. I was just taking a walk.” Zuho smiles and I feel like my insides are being twisted into knots. “The others are at home, I can call them here for you.” 

 

Before I can reply the others are there, all standing behind Zuho, looking down at me. Most of them break into wide grins or apologetic smiles as they greet me. Hwiyoung pushes to the front and looks like he might be holding himself back from jumping on me and hugging me. He offers his hand out to help me up. Seeing their smiling faces like nothing is wrong makes anger start to rise inside of me. Feelings of confusion, betrayal, and all the hurt I’ve felt the last few days crash over me, adding to the swelling mix of emotions. I don’t reach out for Hwiyoung’s hand, instead I just stare at them. I see their faces start to fall as I look up at them blankly. 

 

“Are you ok?” Youngbin speaks up. “Did you hit your head?” 

 

“I’m fine.” My voice is much more steady than before. In fact, it comes out sounding a bit like a growl. I push myself off of the ground and stand up. The others exchange confused and concerned glances. Inseong steps forward as if he is about to say something but I cut him off. “You can go now. All of you.” Their confusion and concern only seem to deepen. 

 

“What are you talking about? You need us. We wouldn’t have shown up otherwise.” Rowoon’s voice is laced with concern. 

 

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you either. Just go.” I can’t mask my anger, letting it spill out through my voice. They look taken aback. 

 

“Chani, why-” Dawon starts, but I cut him off too. 

 

“You abandoned me! And guess what? I did fine on my own. You don’t have to be here! You can go hang out on whatever celestial plane you came from and forget about me! Just leave me alone.” My voice breaks at the end and I fight to hold back tears. It looks as if some of them might cry too. An uncomfortable silence falls over us. 

 

Hwiyoung speaks up, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Please don’t send us away, we care about you and we want to help you.” 

 

I can not look him in the eye when I respond. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need you. Go away.” 

 

They look shocked and hurt but they don’t protest anymore. Hesitantly they say goodbye and start to walk away, fading back into invisibility. I stare for a moment at the blank space where they had been, before hurrying the rest of the way home. So many different thoughts and feelings swirl through my head. I can’t think or focus on anything, making homework impossible. I am only half aware of what I’m doing as I make instant noodles and vacantly watch shows on my computer. At some point I vaguely realize that I have no clue what’s going on in the show because I haven’t been paying attention, so I stop watching. I spend the entire afternoon doing anything I can think of to ensure that I won’t be alone with my thoughts. 

 

I go to sleep relatively early, wanting to escape and being exhausted from the day. Despite my never-ceasing thoughts I drift off quickly, sinking into whatever dreamscape awaits. 

 

~~~ 

 

_ Faceless figures approach me. I try to run away but it feels as if I am running through water, and they are much faster. I try to scream and cry for help, but no sound comes out. They grab me. They pin me down. I thrash in their grip as they start to remove my clothes. A laugh echoes from behind them. I freeze, recognizing the voice. As the hands cover my body I look past the figure and see my father standing a little ways away, still laughing.  _

 

_ See? I told you. No one loves you. Everyone leaves you.  _

 

_ No! Stop! Leave me alone!  _

 

_ He fades but the laughter remains. I had not noticed that the figures had stopped their progress until the hands start to move again. Soon I feel the sensations I had replayed in my head many times, hoping I wouldn’t feel them again.  _

 

_ Stop, please stop! Zuho, Youngbin, Hwiyoung, someone! Save me!  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and sticking with this!   
> I love you all I'm sorry I've put you through this!   
> I'm making no promises but hopefully I'll be better at updating.


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